“That doofus?” Ashcroft snorts. “No, honey, I’d rather stick with you.”
“You know I’m not a real lawyer,” I tell him, laughing. “I just help prepare the documents.”
“You’ve got more smarts in that pretty head of yours than half this bunch of asses put together,” Mr. Ashcroft tells me.
I smile. “Well, until I magically come up with a couple of hundred thousand dollars for law school, I’m afraid they’re the ones signing on the dotted line.”
My parents weren’t wealthy people, and they didn’t have life insurance. They left me a small amount from the house, but once their debts and the mortgage were paid off, it barely covered my college tuition and living expenses. Now I’m on my own with only my dying succulent plant for company, scraping rent on a tiny studio apartment, and working extra hours here at the law firm whenever I can.
Mr. Ashcroft gives me a piercing look. “Never say never, my dear. We don’t know what the future will bring.”
I smile and nod, but inside, I stifle a sigh. The problem is I know exactly what my future holds: another five years of fetching Carter’s dry-cleaning -- unless he fires me first.
THREE
KEELY
I see Mr. Ashcroft off, and then leave the documents with Carter’s assistant. “Oh, and he needs more of his juice,” Erin tells me with a superior grin. “Vitamin and kale. The place is just around the corner.”
“I was just going to take my lunch break.”
Erin just arches her perfect brows at me. “Sorry,” she coos, “I’m just passing on his message. It seemed really important,” she adds. “But I can tell him you said ‘no’.”
“No,” I gulp, imagining Carter’s reaction. “I’ll go.” I take the order from her and head out. Perfect. Now I get to spend my precious lunch-break running errands – just because Erin keeps him satisfied doing the one thing I never will.
I hope his precious juices give him diarrhea.
I’m feeling pretty depressed as I walk three blocks to the fancy juice store, thinking of all the hurdles I need to leap over before my dreams can be a reality and I can kiss goodbye to Carter’s power-crazy demands. The truth is, despite what I’ve told Justine and Ashcroft about law school bills, that’s only half the truth. Sure, I’ll need money to pay for the degree, but the biggest problem I’ve got right now is getting in to law school in the first place.
Because I suck at tests.
I’ve always been bad. There’s something about sitting down with that number two pencil that makes my brain freeze up. No matter how hard I study, how well I know the materials, it’s fifty-fifty whether I’ll make it through a quiz without having a minor panic-attack and forgetting everything I’ve ever learned. I managed OK in college by picking courses that were graded on essays and group work, but when it came to sitting the LSATS?
I bombed. I bombed hard -- all three times I’ve tried taking it. I’m trying to work up the courage for time number four, but part of me wonders what’s the point? I’ll never make it. And even if I did? I’d need to make it through law school, and the bar exam after that. I may as well give up and accept that I’m going to be running errands forever.
I reach the store and head inside, but I stop dead when I see how long the line is. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I whisper under my breath.
The person who just entered behind me chuckles. “You’d think they were grinding up crack in those shakes.”
I giggle, turning to agree. Then I lock onto a pair of deep blue eyes, and promptly forget what I was about to say.
It’s a man.
A ridiculously attractive man, sexy-as-hell, in a perfectly-cut designer suit. He’s got a square jaw, dark blonde hair, and a playful smile that suddenly makes me forget my own name.
“Now, a good burger, I’ll stand in line for,” he casually continues. “Hell, I’ll wait around for ribs if the smoke is good enough. But bitter green juice that gets stuck in your pipes? No thank you.”
“So what are you doing here?” I finally find my voice again.
He gives me a devastating grin. “Call it my shot at being a better man. You can have too much of a good thing.”
“I don’t understand why people say that,” I sigh. “I could use more good things, not less.”
“You’re right.” The man leans in, his arm brushing against me with a shock of sensation as he draws closer, just for me to hear. “When something’s that good, you never want it to end.”
I reel back, my head spinning. Are we still talking about juice?